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No, no, no.
It’s not the greenery turning gold in fall,
The scenery circling the Mall,
It’s just that’s where my baby lives,
That’s all.
Washington D.C.!

Usually when I haven’t blogged in a few weeks, I always opening with an apology.  Not this time.  I’ve been legitimately busy for once.  Since I threw up that blurb from the excellent Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, I got married, went to London and split the rest of this month between Philadelphia and Washington, D.C.

Yes, it’s been a busy few weeks.

But I’m not blogging today to catch you up on my whereabouts.  No, I’m happy to report that I came home last night to my author copies of Philly Fiction 2, the new collection of local fiction from Don Ron Books.

The sequel has been a long time coming, and I’m excited to be a part of it.  You can find my contribution (”Baby Blue”) on page 120.  There may be some readings or promotional events in the area this summer.  I’ll be sure to post about them here once I know more.  Come to think of it, I do know of one: pre-release copies will be on sale this Saturday during the 2nd Street Festival in Northern Liberties.  I won’t be there (back to D.C., I told you I was busy), but look for the Don Ron folks if you’re there.

Otherwise, you can look for the book in stores after July 1st, or purchase it online now.

Anyway, that’s how it should have worked out.  But I looked back.  I couldn’t help it.  It’s not like I didn’t know my Bible, all that pillars-of-salt stuff, but when you’re someone’s daughter that she raised by herself with no help from nobody, habits die hard.  I just wanted to make sure my mom hadn’t broken her arm or cracked open her skull.  I mean, really, who the hell wants to kill her own mother by accident?  That’s the only reason I glanced back.  She was sprawled on the ground, her wig had fallen out of reach, her poor bald head out in the day like something private and shameful, and she was bawling like a lost calf, Hija, hija.  And there I was, wanting to run off into my future.  It was right then when I needed that feeling to guide me, but it wasn’t anywhere in sight.  Only me.  In the end I didn’t have the ovaries.  She was on the ground, bald as a baby, crying, probably a month away from dying, and here I was, her one and only daughter.  And there was nothing I could do about it.  So I walked back, and when I reached down to help her she clamped on to me with both hands.  That was when I realized she hadn’t been crying at all.  She’d been faking!  Her smile was like a lion’s.

Ya te tengo, she said, jumping triumphantly to her feet.  Te tengo.

– Junot Díaz

So, here’s a cool new band that you should check out: Anamanaguchi. They describe themselves as “8-bit punk.” If that seemingly new genre isn’t enough to capture your attention, here are the basic details: they are a drum-and-guitar band with a simple twist. They also employ a hacked 1985 Nintendo system to create very weird, engaging and distantly familiar soundscapes.  Yes, I just used “soundscapes.”  Seems like something a music writer would do, right?

I’m not sure how much staying power the band or album will have.  But they certainly have an immediate draw to them.  I’m embedding the first track (”Blackout City”) below.  You can read more about the band and the album, if you’re intrigued.

My current obsession. Plenty more here.

Below is the poem “Damn,” written by Writers House Poet Laureate Michelle Taransky on the occasion of my firing from the Writers House. It is a lipogram that doesn’t use the letters in “Kelly Writers House” — Michelle’s attempt to restrain herself like I will be restrained in my post-Writers House life.

Damn
fax a nag and fax a mad fax,
a man and a bad pang
ma bang pa, and pa bang ma
and an ax, and ax an adze
nab a man, jab a fan, pad a cab
and gab a fang bag, ban a bad band, ban a damp damp pang

It’s even better when she’s reading it. I’ll link that audio when it’s available. I’ve already challenged her to have this published, so I can ride the coattails of her success.

Thanks to some incredible luck, I was able to see the first of Bruce Springsteen’s two shows at the Spectrum this week.  Above is a video of the opener, “Badlands.”  After the jump is the setlist. It was my first Bruce show, and it rocked. I now understand why so many people are hooked, and why it was hell to get a ticket in the first place.

[Read more]

I’m behind on updating y’all on my new Flickr sets, so here is a handy list:

• Stuart Dybek
• Whenever we feel like it
• Joan Didion
• Marjane Satrapi
• Marathon reading of Slaughterhouse-Five
• Two Phillies games during the Opening Series
• Phils/Padres: Harry Kalas tribute

I suppose I haven’t been updating the blog with these sets because I’ve been busy taking photos!  Also, I’m a terrible blogger.

As always, I hope you’ll check these out, as well as follow my daily photo updates at Test Specimens.